Reinvention
It's been months since I fiddled around the internet, plenty of time, no real purpose. Busy-ness has a way of making free time so sweet. I am half blind from staring at the screen, I have used over half my battery capacity; its delightful.
I have recently been feeling I am too old to be starting anything. People my age should know what they are doing, they should have arrived. Before you tell me how ridiculous I am, I knew that the moment I could identify the idea. But I still needed to wallow in it a bit, feel hopeless, cry, complain. Now I'm seeing things a little differently. I've identified an urge to reinvent. Its not inconstancy, its innovation, constant adaptation to the ever-changing moment. Just because I once loved the shape of my life doesn't mean I can't mould it into something new when the urge strikes!
I can't remember how much I've written about Camphill or the Beehive Creekside and I don't feel like going back to check. Basically the job I've had for the past year and a half, and the house I've lived in for a little less time than that, stopped being just right some time ago. It took me some months and some agony to get to the next step, because it will be challenging and that is not my usual m.o. But when I am sharing a meal with 12 people who all make there own very distinct kind of sense (not always apparent to others), when I am walking the paths through quiet woods or over windy hilltops, when I am singing with friends, when Barry is babbling to me about all the hungry people I have to feed, when I am making quarts of pesto and freezing gallon bags of kale that were grown just a stone's throw from the kitchen where I stand, and so many other things that take up my days in Camphill, I feel like I'm in the right place. And when I am in my little cottage by the creek, the quiet is so forceful that I can barely stand it. It used to be full, now its empty, I don't know of what.
That is how it has come to be that in August I will again pack myself up and move, this time into a house I will share with around 10 people, roughly half of which have developmental disabilities. I will work hard and share almost everything. Who can say what it will bring? Fullness, I hope.
I have recently been feeling I am too old to be starting anything. People my age should know what they are doing, they should have arrived. Before you tell me how ridiculous I am, I knew that the moment I could identify the idea. But I still needed to wallow in it a bit, feel hopeless, cry, complain. Now I'm seeing things a little differently. I've identified an urge to reinvent. Its not inconstancy, its innovation, constant adaptation to the ever-changing moment. Just because I once loved the shape of my life doesn't mean I can't mould it into something new when the urge strikes!
I can't remember how much I've written about Camphill or the Beehive Creekside and I don't feel like going back to check. Basically the job I've had for the past year and a half, and the house I've lived in for a little less time than that, stopped being just right some time ago. It took me some months and some agony to get to the next step, because it will be challenging and that is not my usual m.o. But when I am sharing a meal with 12 people who all make there own very distinct kind of sense (not always apparent to others), when I am walking the paths through quiet woods or over windy hilltops, when I am singing with friends, when Barry is babbling to me about all the hungry people I have to feed, when I am making quarts of pesto and freezing gallon bags of kale that were grown just a stone's throw from the kitchen where I stand, and so many other things that take up my days in Camphill, I feel like I'm in the right place. And when I am in my little cottage by the creek, the quiet is so forceful that I can barely stand it. It used to be full, now its empty, I don't know of what.
That is how it has come to be that in August I will again pack myself up and move, this time into a house I will share with around 10 people, roughly half of which have developmental disabilities. I will work hard and share almost everything. Who can say what it will bring? Fullness, I hope.
posted by Eiren at 3:26 PM
4 comments
